


Hello

by BorkMork



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, One Shot, a conversation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-15 05:55:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28558689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BorkMork/pseuds/BorkMork
Summary: A tired man sits down in Central Park. No one knows why he is there nor why he waits in this exact spot at midnight. But in a few minutes, another man shall enter from stage left, and from there, a conversation will begin to play out.-A greeting, a conversation, a goodbye.
Relationships: Maes Hughes & Roy Mustang
Comments: 15
Kudos: 21





	Hello

**Author's Note:**

> I would like to thank [Aanau](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aanau/pseuds/aanau) for being my Beta-reader for this! I absolutely appreciate it!

A man had sat down on a bench in Central Park.

No one, at this particular time, took note of him. Not the young mother in an apartment a few streets away, nor the old man who fed squirrels with spare seeds from his wife. Maybe a lone jogger and some stray cats might've seen him, but when midnight struck an unseen clock no one knew for sure.

For the world seemed to have fallen asleep, except for the quiet song of birds and cicadas.

The park looked beautiful, however. The nearby fountain spurted water from its many faucets and into the pools down below. The trees hid the man from view, away from the prying eyes of animals that inhabited the flora and shrubbery. The walkways were of carefully-chiseled tile, the night untarnished by clouds, and isolated from the hushed droves of the bustling streetcars.

One may ask who was this man that had sat down in this area, and his importance.

This man we were introduced to goes by the name of Roy Mustang, and he had many thoughts to unpack.

What thoughts, would be the question. After all, if one looked closer at him, you would see he was of high ranking from the way he brushed his cotton-blue cuffs and the brandished epaulet stars. Four stars were no ordinary feat too. Anyone in Central could vouch that the man in Central Park was not an ordinary man by society’s standards.

What would Roy Mustang, a man of high military prowess, be doing at such an hour like this?

Well, he was waiting for a friend.

In the chilly night, where the moon rose brilliantly across the unmarred sky, Roy waited. He wasn’t tired despite the bags under his eyes nor the restlessness of his fingers against his legs; he was very much alive and breathing, anticipating the footfalls of the man whom started to arrive from the western gates.

The fountain trickled when the figure passed its base. 

The steps grew a bit more solid, a bit more hollow, but Roy stayed in his position while he waited — feet pressed to the ground, hands folded in his lap. His eyes remained rooted to the distant evergreen when the bench wood to the right of him creaked from a slight weight.

Both were now seated.

They listened to the rustling leaves, looked upward at the small wisps of cloud that went by, and Roy could taste the lasting sourness of the candy he had eaten with his companions a few hours before. He didn’t know if the man next to him thought of the same things. Hell, he didn’t know if the man believed the same things after all these years.

After a moment, however, Roy turned to him and spotted the glint. The glint remained around the man’s spectacles, which were perched nicely on his nose, a quiet smile bracing itself on his bearded face.

Both wore their military blues — Hughes’s cleaned and primmed, Roy’s crumpled and messy. And yet with this set of circumstances, the former never made fun of Roy being tired or an utter mess. What he did was follow Roy’s eyes, and kept watch at the wood across the way.

They stayed in silence, never speaking, only watching the inky outlines of the park.

“You picked a pretty good place, Roy,” Hughes said. Enjoyment seeped through his words, all dry and jabbing. Just like him. “It’s weird to see the moon on a night like this. I usually do all-nighters so I get the cloudy treatment when I get back home.”

Roy glanced at him. He hadn’t a mint to accompany the stench in his mouth, nor a tiny gift to place in the man’s palms. But Hughes wouldn’t want those things. Roy knew it wholeheartedly, for this man always did remark that “buying gifts wasn’t like him unless it was a date”. Hughes could be quite a smart ass if he wanted to. “Well, it wouldn’t be a nice rendezvous if I didn’t plan it.”

“Definitely.” Hughes smirked, his arms starting to dangle and loosen on the top of the bench. He groaned, cracking his neck. “You’ve always been quite the planner. You gave my wedding coordinator a heart attack when you took a peek at the registry.”

Roy scoffed. He remembered those days. The marriage was hectic. He wasn’t supposed to do much even with the role of Best Man — only the preparations for the bachelor party — but Hughes had to hire an amateur out of all things. “It’s your fault. It would’ve saved up some time if you took the money I sent to get a better one.”

“And why would I do that when the wedding went perfectly?” Hughes said. For a second, Roy couldn’t help but feel flattered by such a thing. “Relax. Isn’t that what we’re here for? Just catching up after all the shit you put yourself through?”

He scowled. This was definitely Hughes, sounding off like a voice of reason. Although, Roy had no clue what to do now. There was relaxing, but Roy had so many topics in his mind — numerous things to explain and say to him now that they stood together in one place. “Fine.”

A whistle. “Fantastic.” Hughes shuffled slightly, head now hung toward the stars. A few constellations reflected off his glasses, eyes bright and sharp. 

Roy stared at him, dumbfounded. After all this time, they were going to stargaze like a bunch of young idiots. But the man was correct — Roy _did_ invite the man for a purpose. He might as well take his time.

He looked overhead and cushioned the back of his head against the wood. The stars above were sparse and distant. He spotted a few prominent shapes, but the names for them alluded his tongue, leaving him to just stare up out of uncertainty.

“Now tell me, Roy. How are you?”

Shitty. Rather shitty, Roy might add, and he said it aloud much to Hughes’s laughter.

“No kidding,” the man said. “You’ve done some crazy stuff when I was gone. Bringing down an entire government conspiracy wasn’t on my list of things to expect from you, but in the end, I’m the fool.”

A smile slipped on Roy’s lips. “You were always the cynical one. I try to prove you wrong out of spite.”

Their laughter was fleeting, escaping into the crisp Central air as the light nearby flickered. It reminded Roy of younger years, where it was only him, Hughes, Heathcliff, and the many acquaintances he made throughout his time in the academy. Where he could just laugh in some random ditch, and no one looked at him and thought ‘that man shall create hell and heaven someday’.

“Spite, spite.” Hughes sighed happily. “What can I say? Someone’s gotta keep you in check. Your optimism reeks sometimes.” Roy huffed. “The Captain does it pretty well, but sometimes I just want to beat the shit out of you.” Hughes’s voice grew exasperated, starting to motion his hands into the air. “You tried to ask the brass if they knew their leader was a homunculus, for God’s sake!”

Roy furrowed his eyebrows. “Wasn’t my brightest moment, but it worked out in the end.”

“Uhuh. With the whole team separated I thought we were doomed,” Hughes admitted. “Was thinking you’d kiss your dreams goodbye after that mess.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“You proved me wrong though,” he added quickly, Roy flinching when the man pointed a small finger gun at his chest. “That’s always a thing with you — you try to prove me wrong every time.”

Sometimes Roy liked to prove Hughes wrong for the sake of spite, and other times, Roy did it out of sheer vengeance. It wasn’t like him to just sit down and take whatever nonsense people wanted to throw at him. Hughes knew this more than anyone else. “And what about you, Hughes?”

The man stared at him, perplexed. Roy tightened a hold on his knuckles.

“Are you doing okay?” Roy asked.

Hughes smiled, almost bitterly. “Okay. I’m doing okay.”

“That’s good.” The words were lame out of his mouth, but Roy had no clue what else to say. It had been years since he’d seen his best friend, and now that he was sitting here — right next to him, joking and being himself — it was hard to articulate what he wanted out of this conversation to begin with. “I thought you’d be miserable.”

“Being miserable wasn’t on the agenda,” Hughes stated it as if it were true. “I’ve a family after all. I know better than to make them worry about me.”

Roy pressed his teeth together. His breaths were controlled, yet the melancholy was there. He could hear it in Hughes’s voice, in the way they sat together as if it was the last time they would ever be able to.

“How are they?”

Hughes’s gaze connected with his. It wasn’t up in the sky like some awestruck dog; Roy could finally see the sternness in the man’s eyes, at the stress that pervaded such a question. “Are they okay? Elicia’s gotta be seven by now. No boys are trying to get her to marry them, right? At least reassure me with that!”

Okay, nevermind. The man was still as ridiculous as ever. Nonetheless, Roy smirked. “She’s fine, Hughes. Elicia’s growing up to be a beautiful girl. In fact, I’ve a picture of her with me.”

“You do?”

Roy pulled out a tiny photo from the inside of his uniform. The smiling girl was older now, laughing along with her mother on a lofty, green field. Her arms were lankier, legs built from all the soccer sessions she’d attended during the summer, and Hughes’s fingers brushed the image’s surface. As if it were a piece of treasure that could break apart within an instant of the man’s touch.

Ultimately, Hughes didn't take the photo.

“What about Gracia? I know she’s loyal and strong, of course I do, but the years must’ve been harsh!”

“Calm down. People try to keep in touch with her, myself included.”

Hughes eased into the seat, letting out an exaggerated sigh. Same old Hughes. An absolute drama queen. “Thank you. I can at least trust you to keep them company. Gracia has a lot of friends, after all, not much as you but…”

Roy smiled. That was true. “You assigned me as a godfather. Would be foolish of me to not check up on them daily.”

“You better, Roy. You need to teach Elicia all the life lessons before she turns eighteen.”

“Settle down. I will.”

Hughes did, in fact, settle down. The happiness his high-strung body contained loosened once more, and in its place, Hughes watched him with pressed lips. 

The hyper atmosphere, once potent and alive, now dwindled to something mournful. Nostalgic.

Roy wished for the previous mood to come back, but he knew what he was doing by trying to plead.

He was just running away from a part of himself that needed to be faced.

And right now, it was facing him.

“Roy, what’s the real reason you want me here?”

Roy stared down at the floor. The other’s shoes lacked shadow compared to his, the whole world noisier in spite of the calm. He couldn’t bear looking at Hughes. Not with how tense or wound up his chest had become when he spoke his next few words.

“I’m sorry,” he said finally.

Roy could only wring his hands, closing his eyes as the apology lingered between them. “I should’ve been to the phone sooner. If I only I just kept contact for that entire day, you wouldn’t’ve suffered the way you did.”

The other said nothing.

“Every time I look at your grave, there’s a selfish part of me that wants to bring you back. But what I've seen at the gates tells me that will never work.”

Roy clenched his hands, nails biting down into the flesh. “You have a family, damn it.”

Pain pulsed from his palms.

“You’ve friends who wanted you alive. Who wanted you breathing and living like the rest of us.”

The other remained silent.

“I didn’t get to tell you how much you mean to me, but you’re too smart for words, Hughes. You already knew, I’m just the fool here.”

Heat pooled in his nose. Roy gritted his teeth more, pushing the lump in his throat back down.

“And the only thing I could do is just apologize...for taking an entire year to find your killer.”

_For not being there more._

He sat there, and the other sat there too. They didn’t say a word nor a sound, and Roy wanted to look at him, to order him to at least say something. To at least tell him that he was awful, that he should’ve done better, that he should've done more.

_Something. At least, say something._

“You jackass.”

Roy’s head snapped up. Hughes stared forward, past the grass, past the park’s trees. He must’ve seen something that he himself wasn’t able to find.

“You saved an entire country. You saved my family.” Hughes continued to gaze into the woods, lips moving softly with the stern words. “How the hell was I supposed to tell you some super-powered maniacs were going to take my life if the phone operator took damn long with the call?” The last sentence was lower, almost a hiss. “Shit, the brass probably had a hand in that too.”

Roy grimaced still. Hughes continued.

“Self-loathing isn’t a good look for you,” he said. “Love the whole General ‘I’ll-Protect-Everyone’ thing, but feeling sorry for yourself, Hell no.” His lips curled into a smile. That smile spoke of sadness, of a million words that Roy wanted to tell him, but everything else seemed to fall away. “You’ve got people to see, people to hold on to. Ishval ain’t gonna fix itself, y’know?”

Hughes turned his head, beaming at him as if dawn had just broken through. “You don’t have to worry about me anymore.”

The man pushed and stood up.

Roy stared at him. Under the haze of the lights, under the silent sounds of cicadas and birds, it was the first time Roy looked at him, and found the heaviness in his chest a lighter burden. In seeing the man’s back slowly retreat past the fountain, as the wind picked up more with the oncoming breeze, a reassurance pressed down in his hands. Into the photo of the family he was sworn to protect.

Roy didn’t have to worry.

At least, he could finally take the first step.

Hughes was halfway toward the gate when Roy blinked. In an instant, his figure was gone, even before he turned the corner.

That was the first time in years Roy took a sigh of relief, a sigh of relief that bloomed in wisps above his lips, trailing then dissipating into the air. Within an instant, out of a million lifetimes' more, Roy decided one thing. He eased his back into the bench wood, brushed the hair from his bangs, and looked up into the bright sky, the stars framed well in his shining pupils.

No one had taken note of this spectacle at this time of night, for there was no one there to even witness what had just occurred — the conversation, a few lines of dialogue, and the exit of a friend who was never there to begin with. 

The only ones who did were the cicadas, birds, and a single man.

A man named Roy Mustang, sitting alone peacefully on a Central Park bench.


End file.
